YOU KNOW RULES ARE A BORE BUT JUST TO KEEP YOU FROM DANGER I AM THE LAW

Judge Dredd fortunately proved the UK can do it's own comic book heroes (or anti heroes in this case) thank you very much.

If we can forget the Hollywood debacle that was the 1995 Judge Dredd film, starring in the title role that actor of immense pose, expression and acting acumen, Sylvester Stallone. And look at the comic book character with more dimensions than some actors.

Debuted in 1977's second issue of 2000AD, Judge Dredd, policeman, up-holder of the law and full time, full on right-winger has remained popular even since. Never very far from satire but hard edged and never shying away from reflecting back at society a near prefect mirror image of istself, Dredd has never compromised on his duty.

Famously chasing one prep for dropping litter and clocking up all the crimes committed by said prep as she chases him down. And again, when distroying half of Mega City One to rid it of invaders. Sometimes with Dredd the cure can most certainly be worse than the illness.

His catch phrase of: I am the law is so much better than Up, up and away.

IS IT A BIRD? IS IT A PLANE? NO, IT'S JUST SHEER BLOODY EMBARRASSMENT

I could do the date thing and make some excuse for 1976 and maybe the 70s in general but no. Rumours where flying thick and fast in comicdom circa 1975 that Marvel US where about to give the good old UK it's very first superhero.

Trust me, amongst comic fans, there was a frenzy......of sorts, for people with inter-personal er issues. But we were about to get one of very own superheroes, so what could possibly go wrong? I mean Marvel had been doing the superhero thing in their own back yard for decades....how hard could it be?

Marvel's then publisher, Stan Lee, even crossed the pond on a UK promo tour. I tuned into BBC's regional news program Nationwide and awaiting with bated breath for Stan (The Man) Lee to bestow upon the unbelievers why comics were not childish or just for children.

And you what he attributed the success of comics too? Sound affects. You know. Biff, boom, bash, sock. Very Batman TV series. I just curled up and tried not to die. Luckly for me my parents were in another room.

And Captain Britain? It was awful and worse still, came with a free Captain Britain mask. Fan - bloody - tastic. .....NOT.

Whilst the Captain would get better, once UK writers got hold of him, Stan Lee would never be the same in my eyes again. And four years later he would include a personal letter in the first issue of very important comic book magazine which opened with the line: Hi there, culture lovers.

I cringed them and I'm cringing now.

Oi, Lee! No!

BUT WHO REALLY WATCHES THE WATCHMEN?

As much as I dislike the concept of muscle-bound super-heroes, and I do, UK born Alan Moore took a hell of a lot of coals to Newcastle and not so much beat the indigenous talent at their own game, sending out-dated and out-moded superheroes in a whole new, more realistic direction.

I still can't stand them to this day but Moore's rag-tag collection of insane, washed-up, self-absorbed, selfish, bumbling and emotionally retarded heroes cast a certain dye in 1986 that can still be detected today not only in comic books but also films based on them.

The Watchmen itself is likely to become a movie at some point which is a pity because it's reputation will no doubt be tarnished. Reduced to a focus group of people who like their superheroes neat, caped and unlikely to question their existence.......let alone yours.

O SUPERMAN

It was difficult to share my excitement with all my other comic book collecting friends when I saw this particular cover by John Byrne.

They were mostly excited by it's collectability, which I won't bore you with now except to say it was a real must have and one to stash away for future profit. The writer, Chris Claremont, had used the highly original title for this edition of 'Days Of Future Past'. Very Moody Blue.

But I digress. Look at the cover as I did and how I relished those words: Slain. If there's one thing more enjoyable to my mind than one dead superhero, it's two dead superheroes!

I've never really liked then but alas I have always been surrounded by comic fans who did. Worse still I let them influence me. So, I gave up my love of horror comics, war comics and SF comics to a bunch of prats in capes and tights.

Of course I regret that.

But for one brief shining moment I thought superheroes had had their day and good riddance to the lot of them. Except possibly for Batman, who wasn't an alien, didn't get exposed to gamma rays or get bitten by a radioactive spider. Some one simply slaughtered his parents and that sent him off the deep end.

Except Days Of Future Past was set in the future and the tights and spandex weren't really dead at all.

I cried for days mind; so near and yet so far.

It Really Isn't Over Till The Fat Lady Sings

Stray what? Well, yes, exactly, that's what I thought. But that did not stop me buying all four issues of this little oddity from Bill Sienkiewicz. Which I dutifully read, bagged and slotted into my comic collection; waiting for the value to increase and my fortune to be made.

Which it never did. I sold the series on eBay a few years ago to a French man who knew pretension when he saw it and lapped it up. I think I made my money back but then again, maybe not.

But I enjoyed the actual sale more than usual due to my ex-wife sighting all four issues of Stray Toasters in our divorce settlement; along with a copper bottomed pot. I never really got her way of thinking when we were actually married and I certainly didn't get it after.

I'm not sure her lawyers did either but monkeys preform remarkably well when you pay them. I never agreed to hand over the Stray Toasters and that was that.

I think she's still singing for them now.

Pretentious, Moi?

Heavy Metal was not, in this case, a magazine devoted to loud music by socially challenged men in beards and jeans that could stand up on their own.

It was an Americanised version of the French magazine Metal Hurlent, which published European comic art and stories. However, although some European art sneaked through as Heavy Metal progressed it became more and more Americana in it ways. Not quite superhero a go-go but pretty close.

And it rapidly moved away from its origins of progression and development in comics and quickly settled on a tits and ass approach; even to robotics.

It was more likely to attract the sort of male, 14 - 22, who's ideal fantasy of sex and complete female adoration, could be catered for. You, know, the ones with the hygiene issues.

But for a short time it was less Playboy and more art movement for comic books in general. Which also made it incredibly pretentious! But guess which of those two evils I would have settled for?

Moi!

QUIET GENIUS AT WORK - Will Eisner Gone But Not Forgotten

One of the few memories I treasure of buying comics at specially set up indoor markets (my first were at Chelsea Town Hall, on the Kings Road, 1978ish, very posh, very punk), are the comics I didn't buy. But I won't bore you with that here. It's tempting, but no. You have a life to live and, hey, so do I!

Glancing around at the various tables, strewn with new comics, old comics, over priced comics, there was a cover less hard back book, gold lettering which spelling out: A Contract With God by Will Eisner. I heard some stuff about this but I wasn't thinking too hard at the time (I was a teenager after all). I recalled it was the work of some famous comic book artist who was big in the 1940s and 50s, so probably not that good really. I passed it by, probably headed for the that month's X Men comic.

I'd also heard it was a graphic novel, whatever that was; it sounded beyond my tastes anyway. And ooooh look who's in this months Fantastic Four!!

Even a few years later when Will Eisner's Spirit comic book character was popular with comic collectors, I'd just frown and say I just don't get what all the fuss is about. Eisner's art wasn't too my taste then. It seemed old (the Spirit was being reprinted from the 40's and the 50's) and old meant boring, and old meant past it and old meant it wasn't for me!

Except. It was for me.

It would just take me me three decades to understand that Eisner was a genius of the medium. A Contract with God, contains no superheroes, no fisty-cuffs, no bland dialogue, no childishness, just stories about real people, in real times, facing real dilemmas. You know, you and me.

Eisner's Spirit series (I'll scan one of the covers in real soon) has been reprinted in hardback and I'm buying them when I can; just another 37 or so volumes to go. But, regardless of age, the good always shines through. It's just sometimes I overlook it. Like a lot of things in life.

Thankfully, with comics though, there's often a chance to go back and correct mistakes and misconceptions. Life, on the other hand, is hardly like that at all.

Now you know why I became a comic book reader.

OH MAN LOOK AS THOSE CAVE MEN GO, IT'S THE FREAKEST SHOW

The less than factual Chariots Of The Gods, by Erich von Daniken, got the whole aliens from out of space kick starting intelligent life on Earth speculation going. But Erich was less than truthful in this and subsequent tomes.

Which was a real pity for this 14 year old, who took the whole concept in, hook, line and sinker. I practically kept a well thumbed copy of Chariots by my bed for years. Ah, the gullibility of it all. Hmmmmm, wonder if I can find a copy on eBay and put it back by my bedside.....er purely for erm......does nostalgia count? I mean maybe there's more to this than meets the eye?

But even knowing the truth did not stop me from making sure I brought this 1975 copy of Marvel Preview; a black and white magazine sized comic, that turned von Daniken's scam into a tale of crafted escapism. The cover is Neal Adams at his best, whilst the interior art was handled by the very underrated but admired by me (and at least one other, where are you Floyd Hughes?) Alex Nino.

Marvel Preview had an in depth interview with Erich, which I lapped up and that's when I suspected Erich was less of a scientist and more of a game show host.

Ah, the bitter disappointment.

There's A Monkey On My Back

Drug abuse isn't a new concept and here, with this cover from long gone EC comics publisher, we face it again. This though is the 1950s and for a short time the EC (Entertaining Comics) would shine and take the genre into more adult lead themes.

Unfortunately, this would be EC's undoing and it would be investigated by the Un-American Activities Committee and found guilty of corrupting 1950s children, a famous US doctor made a small fortune writing a book to prove this point. True story and EC was hounded out of the comic publishing busy, with the exception of its single title, the humour magazine, Mad.

I suppose I'm back to my old hobby horse here, and maybe the theme of this blog that comics are not necessarily for children. And the other theme would be society's need blame things for the behaviour of their off-spring.

Rock and Roll music, comics, video nasties, drugs, console games. But I'm a foster carer too and the thing that I find corrupts children the most is their unthinking and uncaring parents.

Whereas a EC comic book would really be there to put them straight. Drugs, as you can clearly see from the cover, suck.

Protest And Survive Because Big Brother Really is watching us all!

AAAGH!

Not the sound that comic book characters make when punched by a villain. No, it was in fact the sound made by protesting comic book artists and writers: Artists Against Anti Government Homophobia.

Published in 1988 to combat the Tory Clause 28, which was designed to outlaw the promotion of homosexuality in any way shape or form. A nasty spiteful attempt at victimisation.

The publisher was Mad Love, a start up company formed by British comic book writer Alan Moore (taking the USA by storm at that point) and his partners. This was the only publication from Mad Love but it proves a point.

Comic books can and do offer a forum for adult protest, it isn't just a child's medium; serious issues can be tackled and debated. The cover by Dave McKean is chilling enough and references the media support for government views on homosexuality in the late 80s.

Dark days that hopefully will never return....except there's a cctv on every corner of every street and ID cards insisting on knowing your sexuality.

Mr Finbow's reaction and the school comic club

I ran, for a very short time a school comic club and the teacher responsible for over seeing all after school clubs was a man who looked like an RAF wing commander, complete with handle bar moustache.

A the clubs had the chance to advertise themselves in the school foyer and I promptly stuck up a copy of Red Sonja No.1. I met up with Mr Finbow a day or so later and he was grinning from ear to ear and stopped me to explain that comics had changed a lot since his day.

I didn't really take it in at the time, it was 1977, I was 15, what was this old man going on about? It's just a comic after all. I really did miss his point. Yes, I was that naive. But then I'd wandered into our local porn magazine shop, in my school uniform, happy as Larry, at finding Unknown Worlds of Science Fiction n0.6 on its shelves. The guy behind the counter really did do a double take at my sudden arrival (more of which in another post, soon I promise).

So, 31 years later, the penny finally drops. The artist, Frank Thorne would go on to produce a near copy of Red Sonja who was much, much more blatant.

But here, with Red Sonja under an American comics code and UK customs officers (who would impound comics and remove them from shelves), she took a certain 15 year old boy on adventures where sex was not the driving force, imagination was.

Alas, I would not remain 15 forever.

COMIC BOOK FANS THEY MAKE MY HEAD HURT!

This cover has always made me smile. I'm sick that way.

Comic book fans are a funny bunch. They seem to think that comic book creators are somehow there for them, for their various needs, whims and demands. Fanboys is the term coined for them and them alone.

So when fans complain a treasured issue of one of 'their' comic books is late they insist on being heard, however insulting they may be. Never mind that the artist and writer might have personal problems to deal with, death, divorce, birth or tax returns to get in. Some fanboys insist that the creators get on with giving them what they demand. Hell, they might think, I keep you're lazy ass in a job. So I own you.

This is called: Not living in the real world. And some but not all fans can be like this....you know, stunted and immature, unwilling to move out of their parents homes. Possibly watch too much SF. Think William Shatner is God.........which he is, of course.

And let's face it Frank Miller and Geof Darrow are only drawing what we're all thinking when that comic book fanatic stumbles towards us, drooling, raving about the special effects in the latest X Men movie.

I feel myself easing off the safety catch, chambering a round. Don't you?

In Space No One Can Hear Your Mum's Censorship

Alien was an adult movie; given its gore, language and themes (think here of the android ramming a pornographic magazine down Ripley's throat in an attempt to kill her by raping the only orifice he could get to at the time). And this comic book adaptation stuck as closely to the cinematic version as possible.

Which sounds about right. Archie Goodwin and Walt Simonson's knew their audience would be the same as it was for the film. Well, so you'd think.

But the story goes that a young boy aged around 10 pestered his mum to buy him a copy. Which she did; it's got a funny animal in it after all. You know the one, explodes out of John Hurt's chest, gets tall, develops something of a taste of for the crew but doesn't like cats.

When the boy complained about the swearing in the comic book his mum, so the story goes, went ballistic. The upshot of which meant the publishers withdrew all copies from the newsagents and pulped them all. They were so sorry that the mum hadn't at least skimmed through the comic before she brought it and used her own powers of deduction. What were they thinking? Tsk, tsk.

Because comic books are for kids aren't they? Okay, maybe the book should have had a warning on the cover like some comics do. But personally I tend to think the clue to it's reading age is in the source material it came from. Call me insightful if you must or simply on the ball.

Welcome to my world.

What evil lurks in the hearts of men? George Bush knows!

Actually, the Shadow knows what lurks and where. I plan to squeeze in a number of Shadow covers into this blog, so here's the first. Mike Kulta pushed the boundaries of illustration at the time (the 1970s) with this painted background looming over a penciled foreground. The effect, I feel, is as near perfect as you're likely to get.

The character harks from the early 1930's in prose magazines called pulp's, which I believe referred to the low quality paper used and not the subject matter.

I was always going to be drawn (dreadful pun) to the Shadow over the usual caped and spandex bedecked superheroes because the Shadow didn't go in for trading punches and endless monologues, he just shot people and they stayed shot. I kind of like that approach, you know, direct and er to the point!

DUCK AND COVER

Okay. I know what you're thinking: He's goes to all that trouble, time and effort to point out that comics are not all for kids and he's come up with a funny animal cover. A bit self-defeating I hear you say. Daffy with a bit of Donald you might argue.

Frank Brunner probably didn't want the Spider-Man illo either but I guess the marketing boys had been talking with the boys down town, who never made a move without the boys from accounting and....well you get the picture. Howard The Duck, as written by Steve Gerber, was satire on the current state of America (in the mid 1970s) and best way to slip that under the radar was to dress it up in absurdity. Hence the duck. That outsider view. Howard even ran for President but alas lost out to Jimmy Carter. He turned human once too but quickly reverted. He had a full relationship with Bev, the female on the cover. One issue of HTD was all prose with single page illustrations.

But then the boys from down town got talking with the boys from accounts and Howard The Duck got plucked!